Continued Stories
by Le Diable
Summary: One year after the war, and Anya Alstreim is left with nothing. But sometimes it takes the loss of everything material to obtain anything of any true value.  Post-war Anya/Jeremiah. R2 SPOILERS. Chapter 4 up!
1. Chapter 1

Hi y'all.

First ever fanfiction EVER. So if you are reading this & you hate it - please don't judge me too much! I'm still learning.  
So yeah Anya/Jeremiah. It's a strange one, but it makes sense (to me at least). If the idea of a 16/17 year old with a 30 year old freaks you out ( would be kind of weird if you did :/ ) - LEAVE NAO. It's K+ for now, but it will most certainly be going up by the end of the story.  
Disclaimer: I own feck all.

**Chapter 1  
***

For sixteen year old Anya Alstreim, it had all gone to hell. She had lost pretty much everything during the war; her position, her friends, everything that everyone had predicted about her "promising future". And now, today, she was left with nothing but the clothes on her back. And her diary.

That's not a lot to fall back on.

It had been nearly a year since the fall of the 99th Emperor of Britannia... Lelouch vi Britannia, Lelouch Lamperouge, or whatever else he had called himself. The world had fallen into chaos since. Intense international pressure on what remained of Britannia, abundance of racist attacks in U.S Japan, war crime trials and mass state funeral arrangements. That was only to name a few of the problems he had left in his wake.

It was... mayhem.

It had only taken a few days in the new post-war Tokyo for Anya to realise she wasn't cut out for it. Distraught men and women ran around in the streets handing out posters of their missing loved ones; the governments screamed at each other, blaming the other for the meaningless massacres; millions of people around the world went homeless and jobless; the F.L.E.J.A radiation caused miscarriage and cancer...

Zero presumably had never foreseen this mess.

Zero had been an unrealistic fool.

Anya could stomach the misery of others, however. She had been trained as a Knight of Rounds to remain indifferent to the conditions of the world they were conquering. She hadn't been blind to the Area Eleven ghettoes, or the merciless demolition of the Arab armies. She hadn't pretended not to see as the young Chinese Empress cried for an end to her country's suffering; hadn't claimed that her arm had slipped as she took aim and fired directly at the girl's heart.

But it had all hit home with Gino.

Her happy-go-lucky best friend had always balanced out her apathy, her lack of sensitivity and her compassionless aura in general. He had always been laughing, always been overly friendly and equally unfazed by the desolation they left in their wake. Nowadays his bright blond hair fell limply into his dull eyes as he mumbled to himself about Suzaku and redheads and apologies. He was no longer the man who had been her first friend, the one who had taken her on when she was young and afraid. The one who had helped her adapt to the cruel, dog-eat-dog world around them.

He wasn't Gino. He was his lower, self-pitying shadow.

That's why, when the man she knew as Jeremiah Gottwald approached her and offered her the spare room in his new lodgings, she accepted without even thinking about it.

Anya needed distance.

/

Granted, when you go off to live with a person you barely know, people are going to talk. Especially considering the circumstances in this case – a sixteen year young girl shacking up with a unknown thirty-something year old _man_, and a strange man like Jeremiah Gottwald at that.

Anya had seen him on the news a couple of years previously. A fool who released the only person suspected of murdering a Royal, then proceeded to attack his own soldiers on live television. She had looked away disinterestedly at the time, but she had heard later that Geass had been the most likely reason for the bout of insanity that ruined his career.

She forgot all about him. Or she just hadn't cared to remember him.

That changed, when he became the first person to defeat her in military combat.

Had she not been so frustrated at the time, she would have been greatly embarrassed that such a fool managed to desecrate her beautiful, beloved Mordred in the fashion that he did – and then stand over her and jeer in triumph. No, the embarrassment would come later, when she woke to find she had passed out after her defeat – and was sentenced to public execution in Tokyo.

Well, she _would_ have felt embarrassed. Had news not promptly reached her of Suzaku's death.

Jeremiah's house was in the countryside, miles away from Tokyo, or any city, or civilisation at all. It made sense. There would surely be people who resented him considering his status with Emperor Lelouch. Anya knew that feeling all too well – in the first few months after the war when she dared to go out to the city, men spat at her in the streets and catcalled from afar. Lloyd, the silly scientist who had insisted on accompanying her outside, urged her past them and told her that they were suffering, that they were upset because their loved ones were dead.

They needed a scapegoat, he told her.

She could take care of herself, she told him.

Lloyd was one of the few people who tried to convince her not to leave with Jeremiah. The words "dangerous" and "psychotic" and "only sixteen" jumped around all over the place, but she had already made her mind up. His pretty friend Cecile had watched on worriedly, the Eleven Chiba shook her head and the student girl Nina frowned over the top of her glasses. They all had each other, they all wanted to protect each other – but they were wrong to think that the former Knight of Six had any part in their little terrorist clique.

Who did she have? No-one.

Gino would maybe laugh at her if he was himself. He would laugh, then realise she was being serious and he would get so protective that she would maybe change her mind. But he wasn't himself, and he didn't protest. And she didn't change her mind.

She had no-one.

/

It had been about six months since Anya moved in to Jeremiah's small farmhouse. One of the pre-conceived judgements of her living with the man was that they were going to get all chummy and end up best mates, or worse, lovers. But that was one thing Anya tried to stress to her persecutors – they were barely even acquaintances.

In the mornings Jeremiah would always be seated at the kitchen table with his newspaper; Anya would slip past him to get some breakfast, then vanish up to her room without so much as a hello how are you. She did her own laundry, she washed her own dishes, she was quick out of the bathroom in the mornings and evenings... they were two strangers under the same roof. Jeremiah himself did even less to try and interact with his new lodger, but they had become comfortable with the silence.

...comfortable with _being _comfortable.

When he informed her he was starting an orange plantation, he had met her blank expression so seriously she had to quell her laughter and agree to help him. The next morning, when she arrived at the breakfast table, he had looked her over and snorted into his teacup. She discovered the reason why later, when she was digging up the earth and her pretty skirts and stockings were stained black with dirt. So she went out and bought some simple linen dresses and tennis shoes from the local market. There wasn't really much point in dressing up these days anyway.

Anya clicked open her diary.

She was glad she had kept it over the years. Her memories had been so sparse and jumbled; her mind was like a jigsaw puzzle without the reference picture. There were entries that described events she couldn't remember happening, photos of unknown faces in exotic places she thought she had never been to. Sometimes she had gotten so frustrated she could have cried. It was only recently that she was able to distinguish, able to recognise, able to _remember._

She had the sensation that her head was...clear.

She didn't get nightmares anymore.

She never told anyone about the visions that plagued her at night. She could never explain them, she could never control them, but they were the only things she could count on always remembering. They came every night for nine years; the sight of a broken porcelain mannequin; white marble steps splattered with blood; red and black rivulets like human hair, tangled your fingers together and got stuck around your tongue and over your eyes until you were choking to breathe. Blue eyes flashing red over and over...

Anya stopped on one photograph.

A woman with black hair.

No doubt it was Marianne the Flash, she had no shortage of pictures of the former Empress. When she was six years old and she got sent to the palace on a etiquette apprenticeship, her father bought her the camera and said, "Take as many pictures as you can – of the palace, of the gardens, and of the Empress!" And she had fulfilled her father's wishes. This one photograph was different from the others however; instead of being accompanied by the Emperor Charles, or a miniature fancily-dressed Lelouch, or her pretty pale haired daughter, or even a gangly teenage Cornelia – Marianne was accompanied by a young man.

A man with blue hair.

Anya stared. They were in the background of the picture, the foreground being occupied by some of Cornelia's guards-in-training standing in the Entrance Hall of the Aries Palace where Anya had started her apprenticeship. They had their backs to the group and were standing at one of the windows that overlooked the palace grounds. One of her white hands rested on his upper arm.

They looked like lovers.

/

That night, Anya waited for Jeremiah outside the bathroom. She could hear him fumbling around with the shower curtain and so she sat down beside the door, seeking out the picture on her diary.

Jeremiah obviously had a connection with the Britannian Imperial family. The Second Princess Cornelia had told the rebel party in Cambodia that he had refused to torture her, even on Emperor Lelouch's orders. Then again, he seemed to hold Lelouch in higher esteem than any of the other Royals. But why would he? Lelouch murdered and plundered at the belittlement, even the death, of his siblings. Was it for personal gain? Perhaps guilt, stemming from Britannia's abandonment of Marianne's children?

Or...because Lelouch _was_ Marianne's child?

Anya leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. She was tired of conspiracies, but it was something about Marianne the Flash that even on mention of her, Anya used to feel like her blood would run faster and her head would throb painfully. It's just... one more of those inexplicable things about herself, one of those things that kept her alienated from being a _normal girl_.

The shower screeched off.

She sat up straight and watched the door.

The locked clicked open, and Jeremiah emerged from the bathroom in a dressing gown, rubbing a towel into his damp hair.

"Jeremiah," Anya stood up quickly, ignoring his yell of shock. "I have a question for you."

The man, who had leapt at least a foot down the hall, gaped at her.

"Important enough to squat around outside the bathroom while I–"

"Yes." She handed him her open diary. "I believe this is a picture of you?"

He glanced down at the picture, and then looked at her as if she had just sprouted antlers.

"This is a picture of Andreas Darlton."

"No, in the background."

Jeremiah squinted at the photo with his good eye. A short pause followed in which Anya could not read the expression on his face, before he handed the diary out to her and shook his blue head.

"No, that's not me."

Anya took her diary and looked between the mystery man on her screen, and the man who stood in front of her. She slowly clicked it shut.

"That _is _you."

"No–" Jeremiah sighed and rubbed his temples. "No, no it's not. If you'll excuse me..."

He stepped past her and she watched him disappear down the hallway, his footsteps a little too quick to be convincingly casual. If the picture hadn't been enough proof of an association between the fallen Empress and this imbecile, his reaction certainly set it in stone.

Anya blinked slowly.

Really. What a fool.

/

**/ **First fanfiction on the upload! This feels pretty great ahaha.  
Please review & critque! I'd really like to hear opinions on this.


	2. Chapter 2

I was pretty surprised by some of my reviews, I figure I'll have to be a bit clearer about what I write lol.

**Cortega - **Really wasn't trying to imply that at all! That's not what something I'm going to try with this story - hopefully this chapter will clear that up.

**Person With Many Aliases** - Thanks for the great advice! I guess I was a little bit nervous with first time posting, trying to ease people into the story. I'll definately take what you said into account though.

**Halo001** - I hear ya. All my favourite pairings in this fandom seem to have barely any fanfics on them. Raging!

**MisterSP** - Woah no! We all know Xing-ke jumped in the way and protected her.

**Lost-chan** - AU as in Alternate Universe? Not really. It's whats happening after the war, and I'm just delving into some things that were never fully explained to us, so nope! Not AU. Hope you keep reading!

Disclaimer: I own feck all.

This is a short sweet little chapter. I've already almost finished chapter 3 and I'll tell it's more fleshed out than this one. Hope you enjoy.

**Chapter 2  
/**

Anya was awake before the sun rose the next morning.

She sat Indian-style on her pillows, her diary resting open against one of her skinny pale legs. The keys clicked and beeped as she typed with deliberate force.

She was making a journal entry.

Now, she didn't like it when people tried to keep her in the dark.

_Will confront blue-haired idiot properly at breakfast_.

A pause.

_Will check phonebook for nearby pizza place._

Anya leaned back against the headboard. She didn't particularly miss the city, but the countryside had its inconveniences. The lack of fast-food restaurants was probably the worst.

She used to hate silence. The commotion of Tokyo city and the rage of war would distract her from her mess of a mind. Out here, where nothing exists but mother nature, she was glad she had a clear head. She probably would have been driven insane.

But that wasn't an issue anymore.

A tiny sliver of light on the horizon cast red and pink shadows across the sky. Anya saved her journal entry and slid off the bed, crossing to the window. Her frail arms strained as she wrenched it open. The scent of orange blossoms floated up from the allotment. It was a prevalent feature of the farmhouse, the plants having sprouted up out of the soil within a couple of months – to Jeremiah's delight. She couldn't help feeling a little bit proud herself the first time she brushed her fingers against the soft green leaves and premature buds. She had never given life before, only taken.

Anya opened her camera. She angled the frame to fit in the yellow and pink horizon and snapped a photograph.

/

Anya had been sitting at the table a few hours when Jeremiah came down that morning. He glanced her over disinterestedly and fetched a glass out of the cupboard. She waited until he had taken what he needed from the kitchen; she was sure he would have to address her sooner or later. She was in his seat.

He stood at the sink with his back to her, drinking his water. His shoulders were tense.

She waited.

_Anytime soon..._

"If you're going to do what I think you are, I'm not in the mood. It's too early in the morning for your conspiracy bullshit."

"I don't care."

He whipped round. She met his disbelieving stare squarely.

"What -! You _don't care_?"

"Yes, I don't care. That would accomplish the not caring."

"Why you–!"

He hissed through his teeth and pinched the bridge of his nose. She took his silence as a sign to proceed, and clicked through her diary until she located the offending picture.

"This is you Jeremiah, I'm not an imbecile. I want to know what a picture of you, regardless of the fact that you're accompanying the ex-Empress, is doing on the diary I've kept for the past nine years."

She set it facing him on the table.

He refilled his glass without looking at it, and she wondered if he was going to completely ignore her. But then he sat down opposite her and gave her a very annoyed look.

"I used to work in the Aries palace."

"I gathered that much."

His good eye flashed angrily. "Do you want me to tell you this or not?"

She paused. "Yes."

"I was 21 when I was accepted into Empress Marianne's Honour Guard."

"Her... her Honour Guard?"

"That's right."

Anya was floored. She wasn't sure why she had been expecting some kind of sordid secret. Considering he was in the Britannian army, any sensible person would have assumed – correctly – that any association would have been related to military matters. Feeling a little bit silly, she glanced down at the scrubbed surface of the table.

"Were you close to her?"

His brow furrowed. "Why are you asking me that?"

"Curiousity." Really she was picking at loose ends to try and salvage something out of that rather disappointing anticlimax.

"It's pretty much standard," he said lazily, sipping from his glass. "When one is choosing the people who they are going to entrust their life to, one will have to know if they can truly depend on those people."

"Did you love her?"

Unfortunately at time, Jeremiah was taking another drink He choked and spat water all down his front. Anya watched him without concern as he coughed and gulped, his face flushing an alarming shade of purple.

"Wha-why-what are you –?"

"It's alright, save your breath. I got my answer."

He fixed her with a disgusted glare. "Pass me that towel."

She pushed it across the table. An uncomfortable silence fell. Jeremiah's stare was fixed determinedly down at what he was doing, but his eye was glassy as if he wasn't really concentrating. Anya tilted her head curiously. Did he know he was as easy to read as a book?

"Were you _in love_ with her?"

"That's none of your business," he hissed. "You can insinuate whatever you like with your pathetic gossip girl innuendoes, but you've heard the facts. Question time over yet?"

Anya wanted to laugh. Was this guy serious? She was getting direct answers from him, without him even saying yes or no. She wondered if his mind really was addled with paranoia like everyone said, or if he was just an idiot.

"Were you her lover?"

He stood up abruptly, knocking his chair over.

"Let me warn you now, if you weren't just a skinny little brat, I'd–"

"Is there a Pizza Hut near here?"

His jaw nearly smashed off the tabletop. "_What_?"

"A Pizza Hut. Near here." Changing the subject right now seemed like a good idea; while she wasn't afraid of Jeremiah, she was small and sixteen – and he was a grown military man with bits of metal welded all over his body. There was no sense in getting him so irritated that he might lash out at her. He wouldn't miss.

The angry flush faded from his face and he snorted. "No. No of course there isn't."

She fell silent and closed her diary with a click. She wouldn't be able to get anything else out of this train wreck of a conversation. He watched her suspiciously a few moments, then stood his chair upright and pushed it noisily under the table.

/

"Marianne the Adulterer."

Anya was careful to keep her voice down, she didn't want Jeremiah to hear and get all excitable again. But that had been a rather amusing incident. She couldn't remember the last time she had had a confrontation like that. She smiled into her pillow. She had learned something new and interesting today, something that Gino might have considered "juicy".

"Marianne the Adulterer... maybe it wasn't such a shame they killed her after all..."

Had it been a shame? Those with great social stature and wealth had brushed off her assassination with little sympathy. The noblewomen snorted and hissed harsh words about common girls. The men – great Lords and Generals – shook their heads and whispered to each other, "_This is what happens when you betray the Emperor_."

It had been a different case with commoners. There was an international outcry. The people had been overcome with grief. They sobbed in the streets and sent hordes of flowers and candles to Britannian palaces all over the world. Anya couldn't understand why they so passionately mourned a woman they never even knew. She stoutly insisted they were just taking the opportunity to publicly snivel about their own problems.

"An adulterer..."

Under all those layers of beauty, skill and sincerity – Marianne had been nothing more than a common trollop.

"Marianne...a trollop...Marianne the Trollop..."

Anya let out an uncharacteristic giggle.

How strange the circumstances had come to be.

**/Chapter Two**

Thanks for reading & reviewing, hopefully!


	3. Chapter 3

I am officially OFF SCHOOL FOREVER wahey. Means more time can go into me being a lazy arse, just writing and doodling and eating all day long. Oughta be good.

OK Chapter Three of Continued Stories. I like this chapter, cause I like writing lots of different characters and the chemistry between them. It's nice and long too (well, for me anyway).

Disclaimer: Nothing.

Enjoy!

**Chapter Three**

**/**

With the events of yesterday still fresh on her mind, Anya was careful not to make eye-contact with Jeremiah when she stepped into the kitchen that morning. She was good at schooling her face into indifference, but she knew her eyes would betray her triumph. Jeremiah was foolish, but he wasn't unintelligent.

She poured her cereal with her back to him, the soft crackling of her Rice Crispies fizzling through the silence. His paper rustled as he turned the page.

Anya fished a spoon out of the newly washed cutlery and made for the door, her mind cackling like a hyena. The wonderful sensation of having blackmail on someone! She now understood Gino's strange passion for knowing everybody's secrets – and why she was glad she had never shared any of her own with him. With this _leverage_ she could get anything and everything that she wanted out of Jeremiah – her very own Pizza Hut, a new little Arthur jr., an expensive DSLR camera...

"I'm going to Tokyo today," he said, cutting across her gleeful inner tirade.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Why–?"

The bowl slipped from her hands and smashed on the tiles. Milk splashed over her trainers, soaking her feet, but she didn't flinch. Her gaze was fixed in morbid fascination at Jeremiah's face. His eyes stared boredly back at her.

His _two _eyes.

The metal plate was gone from his face. Where it had been, the newly revealed flesh was mottled purple and black with bruises, the strain of holding it so close to his skin having had some ugly consequences. Around the bruises, the skin was raised and blistered, peeling and inflamed.

But the most unusual thing to Anya was his left eye. His natural right eye was orange like a chunk of amber, but his adjusted left eye was green like chemical acid.

Jeremiah smiled without humour. "Yeah, that's why."

Anya didn't really know what to say. "Why did you take it off?"

"The pain was unbearable," he gingerly touched the bruised skin and winced. "I don't see any reason to have to put up with it any longer."

"How long did you?"

"Over a year now."

Anya surveyed him. What on earth even _was_ the stupid thing? She had assumed the plate had been there to replace lost flesh – she knew he had had a good portion of his torso blown off in battle – but obviously that wasn't the case here.

"No self-respecting doctor in Tokyo is going to help you. You're a murderer."

"Wow, surprise me again," he said sarcastically. "I'm going to see a lady called Sayoko who works in the rebel group's hostel in Tokyo. She's skilled in medical aid."

"_Sayoko_? An Eleven?"

"The Lamperouge maid for nearly eight years."

Oh, the shinobi woman. Anya crouched down and collected the pieces of broken ceramic, ignoring the squishy sensation of her shoes filled with milk. So now Jeremiah was going to Tokyo, she would have the house to herself for some period of time. She could do some fishing around for more information on Marianne while he was gone – surely he would have a file or two here and there, some top secret reports, maybe a couple of embarrassing photographs...

"The taxi will be here in one hour. If you get your stuff together, I'll give you a lift in."

Anya looked up. "What?"

"A lift. Into Tokyo." Jeremiah folded his paper. "You have friends, or at least things to check up on in the city, don't you?"

Anya straightened up and dumped the broken bowl into the bin. This was new. She hadn't been in the city for... nearly seven months, give or take. She hadn't seen Gino or Arthur or Suzaku's grave in nearly _seven months_. When she thought about it like that, she sort of missed them. It couldn't hurt to pop in and see how they were getting on, would it?

She nodded. "Ok."

/

As their taxi drove into Tokyo centre, Anya leaned close to the window and noted that the city looked a great deal cleaner than it had previously. There were still 'Missing Person' posters, but less of them, and the issue of people slumming it on the streets had obviously been long addressed. New blocks of plain council flats rose up in groups around the periphery of the city – the new ghettoes of Tokyo.

For a moment she thought Jeremiah was staring at her, but he was looking out her window as they came up to a massive boarded off section of the city. The F.L.E.J.A creator – surrounded in construction, cranes stretching up into the sky and men in fluorescent yellow. They would just pave over the area and build some pretty little houses and forget everything that happened; all the people who lost their lives, their bodies blown apart into tiny little pieces or simply disintegrated into the burning air like ash.

Anya sat back in her seat. The driver had been silent throughout the entire journey. His eyes kept flitting up to Jeremiah's reflection in his rear-view mirror. And who could blame him, the bruises were rather disgusting.

She watched him for a moment and then said dryly, "Could you keep your eyes on the road, please."

The driver went a funny colour and muttered a low apology. Jeremiah shot her an amused look and sat up straight in his seat, "We've arrived anyway."

She glanced out, and raised an eyebrow. The hostel block was nothing more than a very old hospital building in a very old, very abandoned part of the city – white/grey walls and conservative blinds blocked out what lay behind the small, square windows. Dreary, she thought, but the rebel group probably had more occupying matters on their mind than re-decorating.

They stepped out onto the deserted pavement and the taxi sped off down the road the fastest Anya had ever seen. She watched blankly as it swerved out of view, and then stepped up next to Jeremiah as he pressed the buzzer at the entrance. The glass doors were dirty; and from what she could see of the hallway, it was littered with old bags, blocks of plaster and a good few inches of dust. Anya was counting the smeared footprints in the dirt when a pair of sensible black ladies shoes stepped over the top of them. She looked up to see the shinobi woman's pale face appear through the dirty glass and then the door clicked open.

"Shinozaki," Jeremiah greeted curtly. 'Shinozaki', clad in her maid's attire, opened her mouth to reply, then caught sight of Anya.

"Alstreim-sama," she bowed her dark head low. "I was not expecting you–"

"Can we cut the chit-chat?" Jeremiah interrupted snappily, his mismatched eyes darting up and down the empty road. The maid bowed again.

"Please come in."

They followed her through the hallway, the scent of oil and dust heavy in the air.

The building had evidently once been owned by Elevens – kanji was scrawled in graffiti paint up over the walls and reception counter. Anya had never bothered learning Japanese. Area Eleven had lost its official language the year it was invaded. She had kind of hoped over the years that it would die out from sheer lack of necessity, but the Elevens fought ferociously for it – and today it paid off. One of the U.S Japan's government's first approved laws was the teaching of Japanese in all primary and secondary schools, and the restoration of Japanese in road signs.

The elevator dinged as it opened, and they crowded in. The thing was cramped and stank of sweat. Anya pressed herself against one of the walls and tried not to think about vomiting. She had practically lived in a tiny enclosed space her entire life, but no one had ever been inside her Mordred except her – no one had ever dared – and she found the indication of any other human presence physically revolting. She looked up at the adults and found them nowhere near as bothered as she was. Jeremiah was staring straight ahead of him, obviously deep in thought; the Eleven stood in perfect poise, her narrow eyes lowered submissively.

The elevator rattled to a stop, the doors dinging open to reveal a long linoleum hallway, a cleaner version of the one on the ground floor. The maid paused halfway down the corridor, and gazed thoughtfully at Anya.

"Weinburg-sama is currently in the recreation suite, if you would like to go to him," she said in her thick accent.

Anya looked up and down the hallway. "Where is the recreation suite?"

"Hallway 7B, on the second floor," the maid intoned.

"...And where is the staircase?"

The maid pointed. Anya turned and set off down the corridor without another word. She had reached the double set of doors through which she could see the staircase when Jeremiah called after her.

"Alstreim."

She glanced over her shoulder at him.

"We're leaving at four thirty, don't be late outside or I'm going to leave without you."

She paused, nodded, and pushed through the doors. The stairwell was freezing, the cold catching in her chest and almost stopping her in her tracks. She shook her pink head and ascended, shivering.

The second floor was almost identical to the first.

"This place would put years on you," she muttered to herself, her eyes jumping from wall to wall.

6B, 6D, 6F...

Her wedge shoes made no sound on the floors as she approached hallway 7B over by what clearly used to be a maternity ward. Little painted cartoon giraffes and elephants smiled down from the walls and dusty boxes of Lego littered the floor around the sliding double doors. She stepped carefully over them, and slid a door open by a fraction.

Her heart leapt. It was Gino.

He was sitting alone on one of the kid-sized tables – his knees bunched up to his chest and his eyes lowered onto the outspread map in his hands. Anya stared at him, finding herself unable to say anything. He was a great deal healthier looking than when she had last seen him. His hair was thick and fluffy, his arms were tanned and when he raised his eyes to her – they were as bright and blue and brilliant as she remembered.

Then he blinked, and the brilliance faded away.

"Oh – A-Anya! I, uh," his eyes darted up to her pink hair. "I thought you were someone else... oh well, come in! How've you been keeping?"

...What?

She stared at him.

He was smiling but she wasn't fooled. She knew Gino's smiles, and that wasn't one of them. It was forced and fake and she was insulted that he thought she wouldn't notice. Her stomach suddenly felt very cold.

He thought she was someone else? Who...?

She turned on her heel, meaning to leave, and nearly crashed face first into a girl with long dark hair.

"Anya-chan! How strange to see you here! Where have you been all these months?"

Anya opened her mouth to answer but the girl had already bounced past her into the recreation suite where she looked Gino up and down appreciatively.

"Looking good Gino! Is Kallen-chan not here yet?"

"Um no, not yet..."

The girl stopped bouncing from foot to foot, looking between Gino and Anya with a confused expression. Anya recognised her as the Eleven ambassador of the Kyoto Six – a young girl with bright green eyes that had rivaled Suzaku's. She now looked slightly sheepish, having caught on to the tension between the two former Knights. She fiddled with the ends of her kimono sleeves and laughed nervously.

"I'm, uh... just going to go head back upstairs!"

She slipped past Anya and out the door. There was a thud, and two squeals.

"Kaguya-chan?"

"_Kallen-chan_?"

Gino jumped to his feet, the map crumpling and flittering onto the floor.

Kallen stepped over the threshold. She had always been a very attractive girl – even on the day she had been captured on the battlefield and her face had been scarlet and her mouth had been screaming itself raw. Now her blood-red hair fell messily about her tanned face, and her sky-blue eyes darted from face to face amusedly.

"Gino? Are you ready?"

"Yep, hold on..." he bent down to pick up the map. Money fell out of his shirt pocket and rolled away in all directions. He blushed and shuffled about on the floor to collect it up.

Anya looked away. This was embarrassing to watch.

Kallen turned to her with a small smile. "Anya, it's been a while. How have you be–"

"Fine." Anya met her gaze coldly, as she had done when they had first met. And also as she had done when they first met, Kallen flinched and averted her eyes.

Kaguya coughed. "Um, Anya-chan, how about you come upstairs with me for a moment? There are some people there you might want to see."

Anya didn't want to go upstairs at all. If she was to leave now, in front of Kallen _and_ Gino, it could be seen as walking away from a fight. In other words, weakness. She personally didn't want to sit and watch her former partner making a fool of himself for this silly slapper, but she didn't want to leave the two of them alone either. She wasn't liking this new side of Gino. This Gino was a smarmy, try-hard creep. He had always had a bit of a passion for women – but he had never had the chance to act this way as none of them had ever _liked him back_.

Hadn't Kallen been in love with Lelouch anyway? She sure got over him fast...

"...Anya-chan?"

Kaguya tugged gently on her sleeve.

"Sure," Anya said. She turned without another word and stepped out into the corridor, holding herself as tall as possible. Kaguya caught up with her in the hallway, and giggled.

"That sure was intense!"

"Hm." Anya raised her eyes thoughtfully. "I didn't know Gino was dating her."

"Oh, he's not!"

"What?"

"Well, he _wants _to," Kaguya said. "But Kallen-chan... she has a lot of things she has to think about, and dating isn't one of them. Besides, I don't think she's all that interested – Gino is such a goof!"

"...Oh."

Anya was almost feeling a little bit sorry that she had jumped to conclusions about the red-head when she realised Kaguya had steered her up the staircase and onto the third floor. It was warmer and darker up on this level, and somehow a great deal more inviting than the two below. Muffled voices and the fuzzy sounds of television sets told her this was the main hostel floor.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked.

"Just to see some people, that's why you're here is it not?"

_Some people_? As in, some Elevens? Anya couldn't think of anything she'd like to do less. God forbid she'd introduce her to, say, the ugly lion-faced Colonel; or the idiot one who swore and made a fool of himself all the time; or the short-haired Chiba girl who hankered after the ugly Colonel like a bad smell.

"Do I know them?"

"Yeah! Well..." Kaguya smiled slyly. "In a way, you know them..."

She reached her intended room, and slammed the door open with a very loud, "I'M BACK!"

Anya stepped in after her.

And for a moment she didn't see anyone.

The room was poorly lit. Thick curtains were drawn across the window and the only light was coming from a small lamp beside the only bed. She couldn't see who was in the bed – somebody was sitting in a chair beside it, blocking the person from view. At first she thought this somebody was wearing a long shimmery veil of odd silvery material, but then this somebody turned their head and she realised the veil was actually their hair. A pretty little face with Asian features peered at her through the dark.

Oh. It was the Chinese Empress. What was her name–?

"Anya-chan, this is Tianzi! I think you've met before?"

Not really. She remembered aiming her gun and firing at her with intention to kill, and then being peeved that the dark-haired soldier had jumped in her way. That was day she had had a funny turn on the battlefield, when her mind seared with pain and she went blind and lost control of her Mordred, crashing into the dirt and waking up later in the Avalon infirmary. That had been embarrassing.

The Empress Tianzi was looking at her somewhat cautiously, her smile a little anxious and her fingers fidgeting at the hem of her robe. She slid clumsily off the chair and bowed her head low, speaking in her funny little accent.

"Anya-sama, it's nice to, um, meet you at last..."

There was a movement behind her and the person in the bed sat up. Anya took one look, and promptly wanted to throttle Kaguya.

It was the solider, the one who they had betrayed and nearly killed in process of retrieving the kidnapped Empress from Zero. She didn't remember much about him personally, but she could remember him pleading desperately for the Empress's life as they fired their relentless assault on his crumpling Knightmare. She squinted at him through the gloom. He was a good deal thinner than she remembered, and paler too, and he had dark bags under his tired eyes.

Despite this he looked just as angry as he had done back during the battle, which she supposed – for his obviously poor health – was a good sign.

"Yes," he said coldly. "How _nice_ that you'd dare show your face in this place."

"Xing-ke, don't..." Tianzi started.

"Yeah Xing-ke, shut up," Kaguya turned to Anya with a grin. "He's a bitter old man, this one. Just do what we do and ignore everything he says." She put on a wobbly, aged voice. "All he ever talllllks about... is war ... and honnnour... ha ha ha!"

Xing-ke didn't say anything else, but continued to glare at Anya with a great amount of dislike. She paused, wondering if she should make some sort of apology – he certainly seemed to be expecting one – but Tianzi spoke before she could.

"Um, Anya-sama we don't blame you for what happened... that's in the past and uh everything is OK now so... don't feel like you need to explain yourself..."

She broke off and went bright red. Kaguya however beamed and clapped her hands together.

"Has all the makings of a great leader, this one!" she said proudly.

Anya looked between these three strange foreigners, and felt a little bit like an animal in a zoo. They were all still staring at her – their narrow eyes touched with fury, fear and fascination respectively.

"Why are you here?" she asked them.

"Ah-ha!" cried Kaguya, unwittingly cutting over Tianzi, who promptly shut her mouth again. "We're stuck here because of one person and one person only. Can you guess who?"

Anya's eyes darted over to the bedridden solider. Kaguya laughed.

"Yeah you've got it half-right. We're technically here because of Shinozaki-san's medical expertise, but really it's to accompany this son of a gun. He decided _now_ of all times to nearly hurl up a whole lung and collapse; so while this exciting post-war stuff is going on – all these nations hitting independence, dictators on trial, the big boom of babies and eloping – _we_ have to sit _here_, and watch from the _sideline_s–"

"I already told you to just go home," the solider snapped.

"Excuse me, I _am_ home," said Kaguya, smiling. "At last."

Tianzi nodded. The two exchanged a contented look.

Anya let her words hang in the air for a moment, considering them. What she said was true enough, any person who had called themselves 'Japanese' had come out of the war a victor over Britannia – but _was _she home? This was not Japan, this was the United States of Japan, a country neither Britannians _nor_ Elevens could ever call their own. They may aswell have taken the entire Area Eleven population, thrown them into Poland and slapped a new name on it just to shut them up.

This obviously didn't matter – or most likely hadn't occurred – to Kaguya, as she moved on from the issue without discussion.

"And you? What are you doing back in Tokyo, Anya-chan?"

"I hitched a ride in with Jeremiah," she said. She reached into the pocket of her cardigan and took out her diary, clicking it open. The bright electronic screen temporarily stung her eyes through the gloom.

"Jeremiah, huh?" Kaguya echoed absently, her attention now fixed on the Britannian's diary. "You keep a journal, Anya-chan?"

"Yes," and with out further ado she snapped a photograph of the three Asians, trying to fight back a smirk as they all yelped and recoiled from the blinding flash. "Thank you."

Kaguya rubbed her eyes and squinted blindly at Anya. "Some flash! Are you a photographer Anya-chan?"

"No," she replied. "But... I would maybe like to be one someday."

"Ah-ha!" Kaguya exclaimed again. "Then you should talk to Diethard, he did a couple of courses in photography and stuff and I'm sure he'd be happy to help you out, maybe–"

"Diethard is dead," said Xing-ke dryly.

"_What_? I didn't know – oh wait yeah, he _is_ dead!"

Anya didn't bother restraining her flinch as Kaguya's very loud, very unsuitable laugh nearly tore her eardrum in two. The Eleven was now making a game of pretending to still be blinded as she stumbled through the room with her arms stretched out in front of her. Tianzi squealed as Kaguya bumped into her on purpose and knocked them both backwards into the bed. Xing-ke fixed his pillows and did not look amused

"Hey Anya-chan, do you want to come see Xing-ke's surgery scar? It's so gross!"

"She's not seeing anything!"

Anya bit back her sigh. It was going to be a very long way to four thirty.

/

**/Chapter Three**

Please review & critique!

x


	4. Chapter 4

You know, I had planned on updating once a week with this fic - but when I uploaded the first chapter, I already had the next two completed. I wasn't betting on severe writer's block when it came to this one, but it came and stayed for months! Not good.

**~Author's Note: **I have to warn you guys I have not watched this series for ages, so I'm not entirely clear on all the little details. Actually, when I was writing about taking that thing off Jeremiah's face, I stopped and said oh Holy hell what even is it?  
So, sorry. I just assumed it was something to cover his geass canceller eye. Is it part of his face? I don't even know! Wikipedia is useless when it comes to technicalities. Anyway, Jeremiah was a bit of a babe at the end of season one, right? Hopefully it won't be a big deal.

**Halo001** I'm with you - I've squished as much of Anya sniggering as I can in this chapter without making her completely OOC. She's cute as a bunny.

**W** Thanks! Hope you keep reading, and reviewing!

**SomebodyLost **Oh I see what you mean. No that's what I really didn't like about the end of R2. It was just too easy. I mean, I live in a country that's just came out of 40 years of conflict and things are certainly not all peachy and clean like they were at the end of R2! That's not the reality of war. I'm glad you like it!

**OrangePrincess** Haha, thank you so much! I love writing the Asian characters and the relationships between them. I wish there had been more time dedicated to them in the anime.

Disclaimer: Still nothing, guise.

**Chapter 4**

**/**

At four o'clock she managed to pry Kaguya's arms from around her waist and flee the room with all her limbs and clothes attached. Actually, that was a lie. Kaguya had coveted her cardigan and, well, the girl was very insistent...

Anya trudged down the third floor corridor, past rooms of sickly looking Elevens and Britannians alike, to the freezing cold stairwell which was even more freezing now that she was wearing only a flimsy dress and no comfy warm cardigan. She stepped out into the first floor, trying to rub the goosebumps off her bare arms, and her eyes fell on two tall women who stood conversing in low voices in the hallway.

One of them was a rather fat lady she didn't know.

The other turned immediately as she came in. It was Princess Cornelia.

Anya bowed her head as she approached them, though Cornelia barely commanded the same respect as before. She had very little standing left in the new world. She had denounced her title as Second Princess of Britannia and she had abandoned her brother Schniezel. Instead, she donated all her time to the running of the hostel block and the investigation into the Nunnally – Lelouch fiasco. In fact, you could say she had no standing left at all. The new world was now very distrusting of Britannia, and even more so of its royalty. Cornelia's military past didn't help things either.

"Alstreim," she said in her sharp voice.

"Anya Alstreim?" the fat woman asked suddenly, stepping forward on two long dark legs that were certainly not fat.

Anya looked at her more carefully. _Oh_. She was just very pregnant.

..._Oh_! It was Viletta Nu.

Or maybe she was Viletta Kanae now. Who knows.

"I was just asking after you today," said Viletta, folding her arms over her massive belly. "I'm getting married in two weeks."

Anya glanced from her face to Cornelia's and back again.

"Congratulations."

Viletta made a silvery little laugh.

"Well, I would be very happy if you'd come to the ceremony." She smiled, strangely, as if her face wasn't quite accustomed to it. "I wasn't sure where you and Jeremiah had run off to, so I couldn't send you two invites. And you both haven't been in the city for a while..."

Her voice had gone up a little speaking about her former partner, but Anya wasn't particularly concerned why. The mere mention of him reminded her of that nasty little secret of his she had uncovered the previous day. That nasty little secret regarding a certain deceased ex-Empress...

She turned to Cornelia.

"Is it common for a princess to have an affair with a knight?"

Cornelia spluttered. Anya watched as her face drained of all its colour, and then flushed redder than a tomato.

"Well, I – what _exactly_ are you implying, Alstreim?"

"I think–"

"Guilford," interrupted Viletta sternly.

Cornelia wheeled round to face her. "Viletta!"

Viletta cleared her throat pointedly. "_Guilford_."

The three of them looked round. The bespectacled Knight stood at the end of the hallway expectantly, though his placid expression turned rather alarmed as all eyes fixated on him.

"Ah," said Cornelia, not quite disguising the relief in her voice. "_Ah_. It appears I have to leave at once. Viletta, I shall see you first thing tomorrow morning; Alstreim..." She gave the ex-Knight a slightly suspicious look. "...I hope you take the time out to make it to Viletta's wedding ceremony. An honour as it is it, to attend the marriage of the first Prime Minister of this country."

Anya blinked and fixated Viletta with a surprised look.

"No not Viletta, _Mr. Kanae_ is the first Prime – urgh!" Cornelia broke off and shook her head. "Christ's sake..."

They watched her stride down the corridor to her dark haired Knight, shaking off his inquiring look, and the pair of them vanished into the elevator.

Viletta turned back to Anya. "Do you think you can make it?"

"Well–"

"I'll inform you of details of the venue and exact times and so on, and if you get the chance, _do_ mention it to Jeremiah – you are still in contact with him, aren't you?"

"Well–"

"It's just, I haven't seen him in a while. And after _all_ the years we've worked together, it wouldn't seem right if I didn't invite him."

Anya kept her mouth zipped. She listened to the clanking of the elevator as it descended onto the ground floor. Viletta was rummaging about in a small purse on a strap around her neck, muttering as she did so.

"Bloody things, I shouldn't have thrown most of them out the other day – Ah here!"

She handed her a business card.

"I'm getting new ones soon because, well, I'm getting married. Name changing, address changing, and all that. This has my current mobile number on it though."

"Thank you." Anya paused, glancing down at her massive belly. "When is the baby due?"

"This Wednesday," said Viletta, shaking her head. "They were going to stick me in that old maternity ward on the second floor – can't see for the dust! Cornelia snapped a few fingers and got all the necessary equipment up onto the third floor though, thankfully. Damn it!" She glanced down at the designer watch strapped to her thin wrist. "I'm supposed to be up there."

"I have to leave anyway," said Anya.

"Oh? Are you getting a lift? Who from?" she asked, her cat-like eyes scrutinising Anya's face.

"No," she replied. "A taxi."

"Oh, I see," Viletta snapped her purse shut with that strange smile of hers. "I'd best be heading back upstairs. Do try and make it to the ceremony – it's important to Ohgi and I that there be a large Britannian presence." She let out a strained laugh. "Strange isn't it? Nowadays the world thinks we shouldn't even belong in this country anymore. It's like giving them a Japanese name and a Japanese Prime Minister just isn't enough."

There was a short silence.

"Well – on that cheerful note, I'll let you go on your way."

Anya watched her head her way down to the elevator. What she had said was true, and she had been thinking this herself. Britannia had gone from being the world's greatest superpower to a people of measly, beaten down oppressors.

She actually wished things would just go back the way they used to be. She had been a lot happier in Area Eleven than in the United States of Japan. To hell with the rights of Elevens.

She had to wait for the elevator to bring Viletta up to the third floor and come back down again. When she did eventually step out on the ground floor, she saw Jeremiah was already waiting for her. He and the Eleven maid were conversing in low voices near the reception desk. He turned at the sound of her footsteps, and his strange green eye glowed at her through the shadows.

"You took your time, Alstreim."

She gave him a blank look. "I'm early."

He glanced down at his watch and didn't reply.

"I've put the instructions in the bag," said the maid to him. "When you run out, you should come back. I've given you a three week supply."

He nodded his thanks, and beckoned to Anya. They stepped out onto the blinding bright street. The taxi was already waiting for them. Anya noticed, slightly amused, that it was a different driver.

As they drove out of Tokyo, Anya turned and watched out the rear window as the city shrank and shrank until you could have taken it and put it on a stamp. It would be a good while before she would be there again. As the last minute ideas began occurring to her too late to do anything about them, she sighed sadly.

"...Should've got some pizza," she murmured resentfully.

**/**

By the time they arrived at the farmhouse, it was already late evening. Anya trudged across the drive-way, scuffing her heels in the gravel, watching the dust kick up and dirty her white wedges. Jeremiah was conversing with the taxi driver. A few laughs reached her ears. It appeared even though he had gone nuts and nearly blown himself to bits, he still had all the charm of his previous commanding post in society.

"Creep," she muttered, turning towards the setting sun.

Being in the city today had thrown a lot of things into perspective. Tianzi and Xing-ke were only in Tokyo for the soldier's health. Kaguya was only with them through their friendship. But when he would recover, they would all get up and move on with their lives. Viletta was getting married and having sproglets. Cornelia had deeply involved herself with the development of the settlement to distract herself from the death of all her relatives. Even Gino and the Kouzaki girl had moved on from the past, however gross they were being about it. They all had plans for the future. What about her? What were her plans? What would she do? What _was_ she doing? Here? Here, with Jeremiah?

She was stationary, is what. Standing still while everybody else zoomed past her without even a hello or goodbye.

There was the crackle of gravel being crushed as the taxi wheeled out of the drive and down the empty country road. Jeremiah was already at the front door, fiddling about with the keys. Anya surveyed the back of his blue head for a few moments. And him? What was he doing? Early retirement or something? If that was the case, then she would have no qualms dubbing him a lazy bastard. He was only thirty or something, right?

"Are you coming in, or are you going to stare at me all day?"

Unembarrassed, Anya stepped in after him and made straight for the kitchen. She had been mourning over her idiocy regarding the pizza, and now her stomach growled furiously in response.

She rootled through the cupboards. Nope. Nothing. Just Jeremiah's stupid abundance of teabags and her half empty box of Rice Crispies. Why exactly didn't they think to get groceries? It's not like there's a shortage of supermarkets in Tokyo or anything.

Suppressing a groan, she turned to Jeremiah.

"I'm starving and there's no food."

Jeremiah jerked his towards the window, through which the orange plantation was visible. "Help yourself."

She gave him an unimpressed look. "Are you kidding?"

"Hm, yeah," he said. "I got some stuff when we were in the city."

"Oh," she said, slightly surprised. Then she started. "Wait, when did you get stuff in the city? We were at the hostel block all day."

"No, _you_ were at the hostel block all day," he replied. He set a bunch of shopping bags on the table. "I went out and got lunch."

"_You_ went out and got lunch, alone? Looking like that?"

"Are you done?"

She zipped her lips and surveyed him in silence. His ugly bruises were still as dark as they were earlier, except they looked worse now that Jeremiah's face was also screwed up with irritation. He had a quick temper.

Though her scorn of him was soon dissolved once he made dinner and they had the rare occasion of actually eating together. He seemed to be thinking twice about it though, as everytime he looked up over his meal, she was still staring at him. He ignored this for a good fifteen or so minutes, before dropping his chopsticks onto his plate and meeting her gaze with a very annoyed look.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" he asked bluntly. "They never taught you manners as a Knight of Rounds?"

"Viletta Nu wants you to go to her wedding."

He raised his eyebrows and scoffed. "Right."

"She asked me today."

"And what exactly did she ask?"

"She asked that I go to her wedding, and that I ask you to go too if I got the chance. And I did. And now I'm asking."

Jeremiah plucked up a clump of rice. "Yeah, I think I'll skip it."

"Why?"

"None of your business."

"Did you sleep with her too?"

Anya was sort of expecting another one of his little choking incidents he had done the day before, which had been very amusing indeed. However, she was disappointed when all he did was cough around his rice and flush slightly in the face.

"No seriously, what _is_ wrong with you? Is your life so unfulfilling that you have to occupy yourself with somebody else's to–"

"I'll take that as a yes," she interrupted, before he actually got on to making a valid point.

"Don't take it as anything," he said irritably. "Mind your own business."

Silence fell again, broken only by the sounds of eating and glasses clinking on the table top. Anya looked down at her empty plate, and went to the stove to get seconds. She had missed lunch after all, _and_ breakfast. She shot Jeremiah an unpleasant look. Even though he had got them both dinner, he could've brought her out to lunch! That way she wouldn't have starved for the whole day until six thirty, she wouldn't have had to put up with those Asians, she could've _kept_ her favourite cardigan, and she probably wouldn't have left Tokyo feeling like a waste of a life.

You're blowing things a little out of proportion, her mind told her.

Yeah, maybe.

The news about him and Viletta didn't surprise her one bit. They had been working together for years, wasn't that right? Anya wasn't a child, and having been raised around Gino, she understood that it would be a bit frustrating for a red-blooded adult male to have to work around an attractive woman like Viletta Nu and not, as Gino politely put it, _make whoopee_ with her.

Anya snorted back a giggle. Jeremiah looked up with a frown.

And him, he wasn't all that ugly. He was much better looking than that Eleven she was marrying, anyway.

Maybe _that's _why he wants to skip it then? Reminiscent of his past exploits with the bride, and full of contempt for the groom who'll get to take her home and spend the rest of his life with her? Was he jealous? Or maybe he's full of contempt for the _bride_ for choosing to shack up with a common Eleven, especially seeing as her previous line of work with him involved actually herding Elevens into ghettos and massacring them without a care. As far as he's concerned, she shouldn't even be seen dead in the _presence _of an Eleven, let alone date...

...!

Anya leapt out of her seat with an intake of breath. Jeremiah almost fell out of his in surprise.

"What are you–?"

"You went out to lunch with that Eleven!"

Jeremiah gaped at her. Her finger was pointing right in his face. Her own was flushed with excitement, and her eyes were positively glowing with the pleasure of having made this revelation.

"Excuse me?"

"You," she said, almost breathlessly, "went to lunch. With that Eleven maid."

"Uh, so?"

"What do you mean 'so'?" she asked. "It's a bit hypocritical of you. You used to murder Elevens for a living!"

"Yeah, so did you."

"I'm not the one _dating_ one though."

"I'm sorry," he said, tiredly and sarcastically. "I'm not seeing why, firstly, this is a big deal, and secondly, why it's any of your business anyway."

Anya ignored this. So both Jeremiah and Viletta of the 'Eleven Massacring Britannian Knights Jeremiah and Viletta' were seeing Elevens. Now that's interesting. She too had made a living out of ruining enemies of the state, but she had never once been attracted to one, or fallen in love with one, or even _thought_ about being that way with any of them. Not even Suzaku, and some had said he had been handsome. Maybe Jeremiah just had one of those Asian fetishes. Or one of those maid fetishes. Or even an Asian maid fetish. Ew.

He was still gaping at her like an idiot. She looked at him, and wanted to shriek with laughter.

"Well I hope you have fun with her," she said slyly, setting her dishes into the sink and stepping out of the kitchen with her face carefully composed.

It was only when she got into her bedroom, crossed to window and wrenched it open, when she let herself finally dissolve into giggles, with only the night to hear her.

**/**

**Chapter Four**

Next chapter... Viletta's wedding! Oh I can't wait to get writing this :D It'll be like a ship fest. Just on that note, is it just me or are all the canon pairings in Code Geass really likable? I actually can't think of one I don't like, and that's weird for me. I usually don't like canon at all but woah, Code Geass does it well.

And thanks very much for reading! Please review - 'cause your reviews are what gives me the inspiration to keep writing! I need the critique anyway. Comment on anything - the characters, the plot, what you like, what you don't like... one thing I won't ask for is flames, 'cause as I mentioned in another fic, flames will only be used to light my fegs. Or something like that.

/


End file.
